Poison Prince
by PensievePrince
Summary: WIP. Mostly canon, HGSS. Will be rated M later. Hermione is in her sixth year, a turbulent time at Hogwarts. Eternally practical though, she applies herself to her studies with more fervour than ever, bringing her closer to a certain dour Potions master, on whom she has a crush. She may fancy him, but surely he would never see anything in a brainy, Muggle-born Gryffindor...
1. Chapter 1

**Poison Prince**

**Chapter One**

Hermione Granger had come to the awful realisation that she had developed a bit of a crush on Professor Snape. Now in her sixth year, initially she'd mistaken her feelings for nerves - after all, he did cut rather an intimidating presence, both in and out of the classroom. Plus she was a sensible girl, a good girl. And good girls simply didn't _do_ things like fancy their teachers. Their bad-tempered, most-definitely-not-interested-in-anyone-and-certainly-not-her teachers! But there you go. Every time she caught a glimpse of a billowing cloak, or heard his low drawl in the corridor or dungeon classroom, it sent a perverse shiver down her spine.

Hermione hadn't told anyone about this - not even Ginny, to whom she confided most things. But even her best friends wouldn't have understood, and Hermione couldn't have explained exactly what she found attractive about him anyway, even if they'd asked. So it went unsaid, and everybody carried on oblivious. Including Snape, which was lucky. She hoped that any unconscious reaction she might have to him when he swept by her in class would be mistaken for fear or distaste. She'd rather have him think she hated him, along with the rest of the school, than know the truth.

Privately, she thought _Snape_ would probably prefer it that way too - he didn't seem the affectionate type, to put it mildly. He'd called her a "silly girl" on more than one occasion, and she had no doubt that were she to profess her adoration to the Potions master, his opinion would remain unchanged. He'd maybe snort with derision, or glare at her and then breeze coldly away, leaving her feeling foolish and small. No - much better that it stay a secret. Tricky, given that the object of her affections could, as Harry so clumsily termed it, "read minds", however Hermione was no slouch and had been reading up on Occlumency during the summer holidays and was confident that she had practiced enough in order to resist at least a passing intrusion into her thoughts - at least as well as she was able to while lacking anyone to train with practically. Book learning would have to do, for the moment.

She was seriously considering asking Professor Dumbledore for personal instruction though. She had none of the risky links to Lord Voldemort that had made the Headmaster reluctant to teach Harry himself, yet she felt it would be a valuable skill to have, given that an escalation to the wizarding war looked extremely likely in the near future. Also, as Harry's lessons with Professor Snape had been something of a disaster, she might be able to pass on a bit more information to her friend as well, as he would undoubtedly learn better from a friendly face than from one of the maybe two people in Hogwarts that Harry loathed on sight.

They had all been surprised at Snape's appointment to the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts professor that year. Hermione was secretly a bit pleased for him - after all, the man was clearly talented in that area, and he had been stuck teaching Potions for who-knows-how-long when he'd have preferred a different subject. She was also slightly nervous on his behalf, given their track record for going through DADA teachers and the fates that had befallen them. It didn't bode too well for Snape, but she had faith that Dumbledore knew what he was doing.

That was also the reasoning she gave the boys for her trust in Snape. Whenever they questioned his loyalty or insulted him, she reminded them that Albus Dumbledore was the most powerful wizard at least in their time, if not of all time, and he had faith in the Head of Slytherin. Not having Snape teaching Potions any more was also a little annoying because Harry had discovered an old textbook belonging to somebody called the Half-Blood Prince and was merrily cheating his way through their recipes using the "Prince's" spiky annotations, and while Hermione thought Snape would have cottoned on in five seconds and demanded to know the reason for his least favourite student's newfound brewing skills, Slughorn seemed cheerily oblivious, happy to have such a famous high-achiever in his class.

Severus Snape had been enormously satisfied to eventually be granted the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts professor this year. Albus had finally acquiesced to his incessant applications, and although Snape was well-aware of the long-standing rumour of a curse on the post, he felt confident that he would avoid a fate similar to his predecessors. Thanks to Albus's idiotic fumblings with Lord Voldemort's old jewellery it no longer mattered anyway, he supposed. The Headmaster would most likely be dead by the end of the academic year, by fair means or foul, and Snape was hotly in the running for culprit. What a marvellous legacy to leave and be left, after all his years of loyal service to the Headmaster and his school(!)

He would do it though. Severus would spare Dumbledore a protracted demise; spare Malfoy from rending his soul; spare the castle from suffering at the Dark Lord's hands when he inevitably took hold over Hogwarts. He had no other choice. For about a millisecond during one of his conversations with Albus, he had had a thought of a desert island somewhere: an unspoiled beach, a remote hideaway; somewhere he could run to and never return. But he was no coward. He might not be a pompously brave Gryffindor, but Slytherins were no slouches when their backs were against the wall either.

Unfortunately however, teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts turned out not to be the dream job he had anticipated. While _he _was possessed of great talent and interest in them, the same could not be said for the bunch of dunderheads he was instructing. Trying to get a non-verbal hex out of them was painful; the looks on their scrunched-up faces were laughable. Still, it gave him plenty of opportunities to dock points from Gryffindor...

Glancing across the room at Ron, who had a look of mild constipation on his face as he tried and failed to send a wordless spell towards Harry, Hermione sighed. They'd clearly not been doing any practice at all. Well, unless you counted skimming through the annotated margins of _Advanced Potion-Making_ and trying out any unfamiliar spells on each other. Harry had attempted a non-verbal Levicorpus the other evening in the common room, and Ron's foot had jerked six inches off the floor before flopping back down onto the rug in front of the fire, but that was all. And this boy was supposed to save the wizarding world(!) She didn't notice Professor Snape, who was standing across the other side of the room, regarding Potter and Weasley with an equally disgusted expression.

At breakfast the next morning, Harry had been moaning about the number of people he had to put through their paces at Quidditch try-outs.

'I dunno why the team's this popular all of a sudden.'

'Oh, come on, Harry,' said Hermione, suddenly impatient. 'It's not Quidditch that's popular, it's you! You've never been more interesting and, frankly, you've never been more fanciable.'

She missed Professor Snape, who was passing by the Gryffindor benches behind her on his way to the teachers' table. His cheek twitched in irritation upon overhearing her words. Surely Granger could do better than Potter? He couldn't believe she was as gullible as the other girls - falling all over herself because of some stupid prophecy and an arrogant boy with an unholy amount of sheer dumb luck! He took his place at the table next to Minerva, and fumed silently.

Although he would never admit it, especially not to Minerva McGonagall, Snape found Hermione Granger rather intriguing. An uncommonly talented and, dare he say it, rather pretty Muggle-born girl, the similarities with Lily Evans did not escape him. Of course, he had driven Lily away with his burgeoning fascination for the Dark Arts, but now he was - as Dumbledore had once put it - "a reformed character", and putting his shadowy talents to good use, perhaps, just maybe- no, a ridiculous thought! And one he was quite glad that he could keep to himself thanks to his talent at Occlumency. He was under no illusions as to his own desirability and besides, his perpetual state of misery was an excellent motivator for him to continue his various espionage activities, as a sort of vicarious atonement. Although probably no-one would ever know the real truth of his allegiance. Such was the unfeted life of a double agent. And all the better not to risk complicating matters with personal entanglements, he reminded himself admonishingly.

Snape almost laughed at the notion that a girl like Granger would ever find a wizard like him remotely interesting. Clearly she was cut from the same cloth as all the other bimbos in her year after all. He had a vague recollection of her attending the Yule Ball with that meathead, Krum, and Snape had been of the belief that she and Weasley had something of a dalliance as well, although if she was going round buttering up Potter then perhaps that was just hearsay. But the witch obviously had a track record with brawny Quidditch players. It made him think of Potter Senior and Black, and the way they used to have dreamy-eyed girls sighing over them, and he scowled darkly into his cornflakes...

**A/N: What do we think? I have about 18k of this written, up to about the end of the Half-Blood Prince book timeline. Currently debating whether to wrap it up there or to develop it into something further. There's upcoming fluff, smut and dungeon-bat-ness. Reviews are love :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Go on then - no reviews yet, but you guys seem to be liking it so far given the follows it's been getting, so have a bit more... ;)**

* * *

**Chapter Two**

Horace Slughorn's Christmas party was a source of great excitement to all attendees. Except for Severus Snape. He had reluctantly been cajoled and threatened into going by most of his colleagues, who'd each promised increasingly ludicrous things to him in turn. "You'll be sorry to miss it!" said Filius Flitwick, and Professor Vector had made a joke about him perhaps finding an eligible young witch amongst Horace's many famous guests who would be attending at the castle. He didn't dress up for the occasion, and stalked around the room appraising all the guests as if a cadre of Death Eaters might pop out from behind a curtain at any moment. Sanguini was a source of particular discomfort for Snape; he couldn't imagine how Albus had allowed Horace to permit the vampire entrance to the school, especially with all the girls in their party dresses, with jugulars on tempting display.

He had not been surprised to see that one of the girls in a pretty dress was Hermione Granger. He knew she had been invited to the "Slug Club" along with Potter, thanks to her prodigious academic talent. Again, the parallels with Lily did not escape him: an intellectual, magically gifted, Muggle-born Gryffindor. Thank Merlin the girl didn't actually seem to be dating Potter, or he would have thought he were trapped in some sort of time-loop!

They'd only had one interaction at the party - Snape had had the misfortune to get momentarily blocked in next to a table by a group standing chatting, and unfortunately he drew Granger's attention.

'I like your hair like that sir,' she said cheerily. Perhaps she'd had one too many Butterbeers?

'I beg your pardon?' He stared down his long, hooked nose at her.

'I said, I like your hair like that sir, it suits you. You've let it grow out a little longer this year; it looks very... stylish...'

'Yeees... That _is_ the look I was going for...(!)' drawled Snape sarcastically. 'You'll forgive me, Miss Granger, I have rather more important things to be doing...'

And away he swept, disappearing haughtily into the crowd.

* * *

Hermione spent most of the Christmas holidays with Harry and the Weasleys at the Burrow, revelling in the cheery atmosphere of the magical household. Her parents celebrated Christmas of course, but in a very staid, tasteful, _Muggle_ way, that involved next to no confectionery. Molly Weasley, by comparison, filled her home with tasty treats and strings of gaudy tinsel and glittering baubles.

Minister Scrimgeour's visit to Harry put a slight dampener on things, but Fred and George's antics couldn't help but buoy the mood. Remus Lupin and Tonks were also there, and although neither of them said anything, Hermione got the impression that there was something between them: an air of mutual attraction, with a hint of awkwardness. She smiled inwardly at the odd pair. Tonks had to be at least eleven or twelve years younger than Lupin, and the werewolf's sober, slightly miserable countenance contrasted sharply with the Metamorphmagus Auror's vibrant outlandishness. Something in the back of her mind made her think of Professor Snape. Perhaps her own feelings towards him weren't quite so absurd after all?

* * *

**A/N: I love the 'Snape at Slughorn's party' scene in the film, but I have an extended setup with that situation in another fic I have on the go, so I just squeezed this little snippet into this one just for the sake of it. On the plus side, we can pretend he doesn't get his shoes barfed on in this version, bless him!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Thursday, the ninth of January. Students were back at Hogwarts after the festivities and Severus had been told at dinner the night before by Dumbledore that Horace Slughorn had come down with a touch of Dragon Flu, and would he mind covering for the Potions teacher's lessons as well as his own Defence classes, dear boy? Glaring daggers at the Headmaster, he had reluctantly agreed. Because between teaching and his extra-curricular activities spying for the Order, of _course_ he had all the free time in the world to pick up after somebody else's shortcomings(!) On his birthday, no less! Fifteen years he'd worked for Albus Dumbledore, and never taken a single sick day.

Stalking into the dungeon classroom he was so intimately familiar with, he drew up to the chalkboard and gave an irritable sniff.

'Take out your books. Page one-hundred and seventy-three. Wit-Sharpening Potion. Something which the vast majority of you are sorely in need of, I'd wager. Get on with it.'

He swept across to the desk and seated himself, taking out a stack of parchments to grade while the class blithered about collecting flasks, and cauldrons, and jars of ground scarab beetles. Never mind grading some of the essays with his customary spiky "T" - some of them looked like they might have been written by an _actual_ troll. Merlin help him.

At the end of the hour, the only person who appeared to have brewed anything that might help the drinker complete anything more challenging than a join-the-dots puzzle, was Hermione Granger. Grudgingly acknowledging her achievement, the girl blushed furiously - no doubt vainly revelling in her incessant academic overachievement, he thought. A little voice in the back of his head said "And didn't _you_ take pride in being the best, during your student years...?"

* * *

In the Great Hall that evening, Albus had accosted him with banal conversation at dinner. He'd asked how his Potions cover lesson with the Gryffindor and Slytherin sixth-years had gone, and Snape had made the mistake of mentioning Granger's name in passing, as the best of a bad bunch.

'She's uncommonly gifted you know, Severus - it must be a real _pleasure_ to have a girl like that in your class.' Snape decided that clearly one wizard's "uncommonly gifted" was another's "insufferable show-off". 'It might behove you to forge a rapport with Miss Granger,' Dumbledore added, 'given her close friendship with Harry. It may prove useful to have a reliable ally close to the boy, as things progress.'

Snape presumed that "as things progress" meant "when the battle against Voldemort turns nasty". He was deeply suspicious of the old man's motives - although no doubt he had Potter's best interests at heart, Severus was also certain that the Headmaster was equally capable of detaching himself from that heart, and doing whatever needed to be done for the cause, however distasteful. Using the girl's relationship with him was a prime example of something ruthless done under the guise of amity. Even as a particularly antisocial Slytherin, it sent a small shiver down his spine.

* * *

Horace was still not recovered by the following Monday, and Snape had been called upon to step into the breach once more. He'd put off presenting the potions that Slughorn had had lined up for his students according to his lesson plan last week, however Snape was in no mood to continue wasting his time on creating his own curriculum.

'Veritaserum. Polyjuice Potion. Amortentia. Felix Felicis.' He gestured sharply at each cauldron as he called out their names. 'Anyone who manages a perfect Draught of Living Death today will win themselves a vial of Felix Felicis, more commonly known as-'

'Liquid Luck!'

It was Granger. She just couldn't help herself...

'Yes, Miss Granger, "Liquid Luck". Perhaps I should take some - then I might be blessed with an entire lesson in which you do not feel the need to interrupt?' He pursed his lips in irritation, and watched as she sank slightly deflated into her seat. He knew full-well that she was acquainted with every one of the potions in front of them, and had in fact probably brewed several of them already, despite the fact that they all required at least NEWT-level proficiency. How the girl had managed to brew Polyjuice in her second year was still beyond him - despite her annoying, insatiable desire to show off her knowledge, he grudgingly admitted to himself that she was extraordinarily gifted.

Perhaps inadvertently turning herself into a _cat_ hadn't been quite such an achievement, he mused. That had given him a bit of a laugh at the time. He'd have loved to have been a fly on the wall when the girl had been taken to Madam Pomfrey and had to explain why she'd suddenly sprouted a tail!

Giving a brief description of the effects of each potion, he set them to work. A cluster of girls from both houses were gathered around the cauldron filled with the mother-of-pearl-looking potion: Amortentia. He noticed that after a brief cursory inspection, Granger had hastily retreated to her own seat and seemed to be fervently studying the desk in front of her, clearly trying not to catch anyone's eye. No doubt she had picked up on something in there that reminded her of either Potter or Weasley? Or both of them, he thought nastily. While he didn't put a huge amount of stock in the press, he had seen the _Daily Prophet_'s article a couple of years ago that alleged Miss Granger's propensity for toying with the hearts of multiple young wizards.

After having suffered several uncharacteristic and frustrating defeats at Harry's hands the previous term in Potions classes, Hermione had reluctantly acknowledged that there might be something to the Half-Blood Prince's annotations after all. Sneaking a look over her friend's shoulder at the tatty, scribbled pages, she saw that the Prince recommended crushing the Sopophorous beans with a silver blade. Biting her lip and taking a deep breath to overcome her instinctual desire to follow the rules, she picked up a handful of the smooth, pale beans and a small dagger, and started to extract the juice in the best manner according to "Professor" Half-Blood Prince.

Engrossed in her stirring, she didn't notice Snape making his rounds amongst the students, casting a beady black eye over their progress - or lack of.

'Longbottom! That shouldn't be brown! Or _frothing_...!'

Suddenly, a hand slammed down onto the desk right next to her.

'Did it _ask_ you to _crush_ the beans, Miss Granger?!'

Snape's voice dripped with venom. She was bent forward over her book and he was looming directly over her from the side. During his swift approach, his billowing cloak had draped itself partially over her shoulder, forming a curtain that partially enveloped the pair of them. While she'd always thought of him as a cold man, Hermione could feel an intense heat radiating from him towards her, so close was he.

Silently letting out a long, steady breath in an effort to remain calm, she spoke.

'No, sir. I just thought...'

She could feel his breath at her ear.

'You _just..._ thought...? You think you know better than Libatius Borage, do you? You think that you should be the one writing the textbooks?'

'No, sir. I just... I thought that crushing the beans would release the juice better...'

Neither one spoke for a couple of seconds, although Hermione thought she could hear Snape's nostrils flaring in the silence. Perhaps following the Prince's instructions had been unwise - maybe the resulting change to the potion was dangerous in some way? Her heart thumped madly in her chest. She was slightly relieved however, to see that the cauldron in front of her now held a pale pink liquid, having lightened considerably from the purple colour it had been just moments ago, and better resembled the clear-as-water end result she was aiming for.

She thought Snape might have noticed that as well, because after a moment's hesitation he abruptly jerked away from her and swept back to the front of the class. Hermione noticed Harry surreptitiously covering up his open textbook with a piece of parchment and a dish of powdered asphodel root, and rolled her eyes. At the end of the lesson, Snape had them all present their bottled potions at his desk, glaring maliciously at the two proffered by Harry and Hermione, which were almost identical. Stating briskly that Harry's had just a tinge more colour to it, the Potions master awarded the vial of Felix Felicis to Hermione despite himself, looking as if someone was forcing him to eat a Flobberworm.

She supposed it was the lesser of two evils in his mind. Harry would no doubt be keen to see the return of Professor Slughorn, so that he might regain his crown as Prince of Potions!

'Miss Granger, stay behind.' Snape called out as people were packing their bags and pushing their chairs under desks on their way out of the classroom.

She'd _crushed_ the Sopophorous beans. No-one had ever done that, in all his years of teaching Potions at Hogwarts. No-one, except for him. While Snape recognised the girl's prodigious academic talents, he had the distinct impression that she did better following instructions than going off-script; she lacked the instinct to create her own methods. At least at this point in her education. Which meant she was following _his own_ instructions somehow. He watched as Potter packed away his own books and shot a pathetic look of apology toward the girl before leaving with Weasley.

With her satchel slung over her shoulder, she tentatively approached his desk.

'Sir?'

'Give me your book.'

'My...?'

'Give me... your book. _Advanced Potion-Making_.' He held out his sinewy fingers towards her impatiently as she struggled to extract the hefty volume from her bag and placed it hesitantly into his hand. Snape was instantly disappointed. This was not his old book - it was a new copy, likely bought by her in Diagon Alley over the summer. Its spine was pristine and the cover uncreased. Flipping it open anyway, he flicked appraisingly through the pages as if expecting it to reveal itself under his touch. "Hermione Jean Granger" was the only annotation, neatly inked inside the front cover in delicate, curly handwriting.

'You demonstrated remarkable insight today, Miss Granger,' he began.

'Thank you, sir.' she replied, annoyingly brightly.

'Yes, _remarkable_... I am, however, a little surprised, as you haven't shown any particular aptitude towards innovation during my class over the past five years. Do pray tell where you're getting your insight from this term...?' Snape held her gaze steadily for a few seconds. Hermione tried to look appropriately puzzled. She didn't want to get Harry in trouble for not handing the book in, least of all with Snape.

'Hmmm. Perhaps Misters Potter or Weasley provided you with some _extra_ assistance?' He came very close to the mark, stopping just short of accusing the three of them of banding together to cheat. Snape could be so very insightful about people sometimes, despite his enduring misanthropy.

'What makes you think that, sir? Harry's potion wasn't as good as mi-...'

'Silence! I am at a loss, Miss Granger, as to why you insist on continuing to associate with those two. I fail to see what a seemingly intelligent, sensible girl like yourself sees in a pair of juvenile miscreants such as them. You might protect them, but I very much doubt they'd return the favour, were they in your shoes...?' He shot her a hard, questioning glare. Privately, Hermione thought the same, but steeled herself out of loyalty.

'Professor Slughorn may be naïve enough to believe Potter is some sort of Potions prodigy, but I assure you I have no such delusions,' he continued. 'One of you has chanced upon a way of cheating, and believe me, I'm going to find out!'

Hermione's thoughts drifted to the small vial of golden potion in her robe pocket and wondered if she downed the Liquid Luck now, whether it would allow her to wheedle her way out of trouble with the Potions master. Thinking on her feet, she went with the only answer she thought he might possibly believe.

'It... It was a library book...'

'A library book, Miss Granger?'

'Yes, sir. I was reading a book on Alchemy in the Restricted Section,' - if in doubt when spinning a lie, go big, she told herself - 'and there were instructions in there for improving potion-brewing.' Looking hopefully up at the professor, he was scrutinising her carefully. Suddenly remembering his Legilimency abilities, Hermione belatedly tried to avoid eye-contact, without looking like she was trying to avoid eye-contact.

'Bring it to me.'

'I... sir?'

'Bring me that library book. I would be most interested to study it.'

He knew she was lying. She knew he knew, yet neither of them would actually come out and say it. She was caught though. If she didn't bring him the book with the helpful annotations, he would want to know why. And Harry would never willingly let her take his copy for even one second, much less hand it over to Snape! Apparently satisfied with this outcome, the professor dismissed her. Trudging downheartedly from the dungeons, Hermione drew her cloak close around her to keep out the winter chill. Not just upset at being in trouble, she was even more upset that it was Professor Snape that she had displeased. Not that she'd ever particularly seemed to _please_ him, per se.

Perhaps he just had a thing against Muggle-borns, being a Slytherin. Especially as Head of House - she presumed he was a pure-blood and therefore came packaged with the associated prejudices. Her teenage fantasies that he might one day see her as a romantic interest faded fast. Lupin and Tonks might have their differences, but Nymphadora was a Hufflepuff, and they got on with _everybody_. Slytherins were not quite so renowned for inter-house relationships, and particularly not with Gryffindors!


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Still sat at his old desk, Snape wondered if he'd been too harsh on the girl. Then again, she had been cheeky enough to lie to his face. "Library book" indeed! He had to admire her nerve. He knew well the intimidating reputation he had amongst the students. One of them had clearly found his old textbook. He had to admit, he had no recollection of leaving it at the school, but his later years at Hogwarts had been fraught to say the least, and he was hardly surprised to have overlooked it. Possibly Potter and Black had stolen his belongings at some point and thrown it into the Whomping Willow or stuffed it into a suit of armour or something else asinine, and it had somehow been found later and made its way back to the dungeons. He could only surmise. But he would have it back. Particularly as Potter was clearly using it to curry favour with Slughorn, passing off Snape's achievements as his own. The nerve of the boy - every inch his father's son!

He'd made a mistake in the way he'd confronted Granger in class though, getting up close to her like that. Dumbledore had advised him to develop a rapport with her, not terrify the girl. Normally he wouldn't have given it a second thought - he certainly didn't care for the emotional comfort of his students, in fact he revelled in discombobulating them. But as he'd braced himself on the desk, looming over her, his arm had brushed her shoulder. He didn't know what effect, if any, it had had on the girl, but the sudden accidental touch had made him feel like he'd been Confunded momentarily.

Snape had been very careful to avoid any further contact with her until leaving her desk, taking a moment to compose himself. Why should a meaningless touch have made him feel that way? A man who kept himself to himself, Snape surmised it was merely a natural reaction to such an unfamiliar sensation, and nothing deeper... or more sinister. Human contact was not something prevalent in the Potions master's life, now or ever. Now even more sceptical about the Headmaster's suggestion that he spend time with Granger, he Vanished the parchments he had been grading and swept off out of the dungeons in the direction of the Defence classroom, silently wishing that Apparition was allowed in the castle as he started the long climb to the Third Floor.

* * *

Snape hadn't set a deadline for Hermione to bring him the "library book" they had been using to cheat in his Potions class, but for the next day or so she pondered how she might be able to get it without Harry finding out. Again, she contemplated using her Felix Felicis, but she was reluctant to use such a valuable resource on something so comparatively trivial, no matter how seemingly difficult to accomplish.

Knowing how badly the professor wanted the book made her redouble her efforts to find out the identity of the Half-Blood Prince as well. Perhaps he was actually a well-known figure in the wizarding world after all, although Ron had no knowledge of such a person. But then Snape was an experienced Potions master, and she supposed it wasn't all that likely that Ron's interest in famous wizards extended much past whoever was playing Keeper for the Chudley Cannons that season.

* * *

Ginny had heard about Hermione's run-in with Snape during the lesson, and was trying to cheer her friend up while they were studying in the library together one evening.

'Don't worry about it, Hermione, it's just Snape! Who even cares what the old git thinks?!'

Her friend remained silent, but a faint blush crept over her face. Ginny's expression turned from one of mild indignation, to horror, to amusement.

'Oh my gosh, Hermione! Do you fancy him? Do you fancy Snape?!'

'No!' Hermione retorted hotly, her face feeling even hotter by the second. 'Of course not! Why do you say that?' But Ginny wasn't fooled for a moment.

'_Seriously_?! I know we're not exactly spoiled for choice here, if you're talking teachers, but literally _anyone_ would be more fanciable than Snape. I think I'd rather go out with Filch!'

Ginny dissolved into giggles, while Hermione shushed her friend insistently, fearful that other people might overhear, although luckily their part of the library seemed fairly deserted.

'Alright, alright, calm down. It's just a silly crush,' she tried to downplay the situation as much as possible. If Ginny went and told Ron, he'd tell Harry, and then she'd never hear the end of it...

'Oh, yeah, I can see why you'd fancy the dungeon bat, Hermione. Is it that sinister billowing cloak of his that does it for you, or the greasy hair?'

'Oh shut up Ginny,' Hermione snapped, a little more irritably than she'd intended. 'Looks aren't everything you know. I'm not exactly a supermodel, even after Madam Pomfrey fixed my teeth!' Then she lowered her voice slightly, 'Besides, he has a certain something about him. Mysterious, you know? He's always quite well dressed, under the cloak,' She tried fervently not to get distracted thinking about what lay beneath Snape's cloak, 'Don't you wonder what sort of life he has?'

'He's a Death Eater, Hermione. And we all know exactly what sort of life that is...' Ginny looked more serious all of a sudden, concerned.

'Dumbledore trusts him. The professor's obviously given him a good enough reason to believe he's on our side now,' Hermione protested, as always.

'You-Know-Who trusts him as well, Hermione, if you believe Snape's actually even working for the Order of the Phoenix. And You-Know-Who's one of the most powerful Legilimens ever, Dad says. He knows when anyone's lying to him. I hate to say it, but if he's let Snape live this long since he came back, he must be loyal to him.'

* * *

Concealed by shadows in one of the rows of shelves, Severus Snape had paused for a moment upon hearing his name. "Old git" - so far, so expected. But then the Weasley girl had said something quite unexpected. So unexpected in fact, that he wondered if he'd heard correctly, although Granger's flustered reaction seemed to indicate there was indeed something to her accusation.

So, Hermione Granger had a crush on him, did she? Snape's finely-honed skills at reading people, developed through years of necessity, had let him down on this occasion. He normally prided himself on knowing more about most people than even they were aware of about themselves, however this was such an unexpected revelation that it had never even occurred to him that it might be a possibility. It might explain her clumsy attempt to compliment him at Slughorn's Christmas party though. Perhaps it wasn't just seasonal cheer that had inspired her to be kind?

She'd so far managed to conceal any overt signs that she harboured any real kind of attraction towards him though, although to be honest, he didn't really know what he would have looked for had he suspected anyway. The female of the species had always been somewhat of a mystery to him. Some wizards seemed to have an innate ability to fall into relationships at the drop of a hat, but perhaps due to his strained upbringing, that was one skill that eluded him. He'd always told himself that he was happy with it that way anyway, at least since Lily's passing.

Snape was also surprised to learn that Granger didn't consider herself to be any great beauty. While there were perhaps more classically pretty girls at Hogwarts, she was certainly far from unattractive. Either she'd slowly blossomed over the years into a lovely young lady, or he simply hadn't noticed until recently. Mind you, the girl was in her sixth year and had therefore probably only just come of age. Bratty, shallow girls held no interest for him, but he had to admit she was different: more mature, emotionally speaking, than her peers, with a brilliant mind. An irritating voice in his head told him "She's got the full package. Brains, beauty, a kind spirit, and for some unknown reason, she's taken a liking to you."

Casting a wordless Disillusionment Charm over himself, he inched closer to the edge of the shelves to better eavesdrop, keeping a wall of books between him and the two Gryffindor students.

* * *

'It's not funny you know Ginny! Even if he's not working for You-Know-Who, I know he'd never... feel the same... about me. I'm not daft enough to think it might actually come to anything, I just have to wait until the crush passes I suppose. We all swooned over Lockhart that year he was here, I expect I'll fancy Flitwick next week!' Hermione joked to her friend, trying to make light of the situation although inside she had an uncomfortably heavy feeling, like she'd swallowed a bag of bezoars.

Changing the subject, she told Ginny that she was going to ask Professor Dumbledore if he could give her a few lessons in Occlumency. The youngest Weasley knew all about Harry's disastrous attempts at learning the skill, but was politely supportive of Hermione's plans. They were all developing the feeling that something big was coming, and no-one knew when things might take a drastic turn for the worse in the war, and it wouldn't hurt to be prepared for all eventualities.

* * *

Stealthy as he ever was, Severus Snape made a silent retreat from the library, deep in thought...

* * *

**A/N: So perhaps our prickly professor is starting to thaw a little? ;)**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: So I know how annoying I find WIPs - as thanks to all the lovely people who have so far reviewed, favourited and followed, I shall endeavour to do my final checks and upload as many chaps as I can, ASAP. I have no beta, so all mistakes are my own. Hope you guys are enjoying :)**

* * *

**Chapter Five**

At breakfast in the Great Hall the next morning, Hermione approached the Headmaster at the top table. Professor Snape was sat next to him, idly buttering a piece of toast, and although out of the corner of her eye she noticed he didn't look up at her at all, she got the odd feeling that he was suddenly paying her great attention. Probably still glowering about her "cheating" in Potions, she thought wryly. The man knew how to hold a grudge with the best of them.

'Alas, Miss Granger! What can I do for you?' Dumbledore beamed broadly at her, setting down his goblet.

'Oh. Sorry to disturb you Professor, I was just... I wondered if I might be able to speak with you at some point. I've been trying to learn a bit about Occlumency you see, and I just wanted to ask you a few questions?'

'I'm sure I can arrange some extra tuition for you Miss Granger, if you feel you need it.' The old wizard was still smiling kindly, although there might have been a peculiar glint to his bright blue eyes. Snape appeared to have frozen half-way through a bite of toast - no doubt annoyed at the memory of trying to teach Harry the previous year. She hadn't wanted to ask Dumbledore in front of Snape for several reasons, however she'd been unable to find a better time to seek out the Headmaster on his own.

'Thank you, Headmaster - that would be wonderful.' Suddenly shy, she turned and made her way briskly back to the Gryffindor table.

Snape resumed chewing his breakfast. Dumbledore picked up a copy of that morning's _Prophet_ from the table beside his plate, and started flicking casually through the pages.

'Puddlemere United are doing very well in the League this year,' he said conversationally to Snape, who drained his goblet of pumpkin juice without a word, before standing and leaving the table, the click of his boot heels against the flagstones his only reply.

* * *

A couple of days later, everybody was relieved that Slughorn had recovered from his bout of Dragon Flu and was back teaching Potions again. Nobody was more relieved than Professor Snape and Hermione. In the Gryffindor common room on one fresh weekend morning, Ron opened the window at the insistent tapping of a school owl, which zoomed towards Hermione, before landing abruptly on the back of the chair she was sitting in, almost toppling over with its sudden landing.

Taking the bit of folded parchment from its outstretched leg, she read it through in her head.

"Miss Granger. Please come to my office tomorrow evening for a lesson in Occlumency, 7pm. Headmaster Dumbledore"

'What is it, 'Mione? Who's it from?' Ron asked, through a mouthful of Jelly Slugs. 'Not Snape giving you detention for being good at Potions again is it?' He laughed at his own joke, although nobody else joined in.

'Dumbledore.' Harry looked up at her, suddenly interested. 'He's arranged to give me a lesson tomorrow. A bit of extra theory.'

'_Dumbledore?_' Ron scrunched his face up at her. 'But you're great at Transfiguration! What d'you need extra lessons for?

'Oh, you know...' She waved her hand vaguely, 'It's NEWT stuff this year - I just wanted to pick his brains on some of the more advanced spells.'

Ron seemed either satisfied with, or uninterested in, her explanation, and went back to polishing his set of wizard chess pieces. Harry gave her a slightly more shrewd look, but Hermione merely smiled at him and made her way up to the girls' dormitory, citing the need to fetch a quill to send a reply.

* * *

The next evening, just before seven o'clock, Hermione made her way to the entrance to the Headmaster's office and gave the password to the gargoyle outside, "_Fizzing Whizzbees_!" At the top of the staircase, she pushed the door open and was surprised to find it unusually dimly lit. While she had not often had cause to enter Dumbledore's office, she had been there a few times before, and the Headmaster normally kept it bright and welcoming, the warm lights glinting off the many interesting silver instruments that adorned the shelves. Peering into the gloom, it seemed as if the room was empty.

'Headmaster? Professor Dumbledore?' She couldn't even see Fawkes on his perch. Perhaps he had been called to something infinitely more pressing than a swotty sixth-year who wanted extra tuition? As she was about to turn and make her way back down the staircase, a figure emerged from the shadows.

'Miss Granger.' It was Professor Snape. She just about managed to stifle a scream but she was sure he would have seen her jump like a scalded cat, even from across the room. He wasn't wearing a cloak, but had on his usual immaculate black frock coat and his hands were clasped in front of him, fingers interlaced, in a gesture that conveyed infinite self-control and patience.

'Professor Snape!' She didn't mean it to come out quite so high-pitched. 'I... I'm here to see Professor Dumbledore. I... We have an Occlumency lesson scheduled.'

'Yes, you do. The Headmaster scheduled it with _me_. Regrettably he finds himself too busy to teach you himself, therefore he wishes for me to impart the skill to you instead. You are no doubt aware of Mister Potter's lessons on the subject last year, and their... _ineffectiveness_?' His lip curled at the memory of the insolent boy invading his Pensieve and witnessing his worst memory. Seeing her nod minutely, he continued, 'The Headmaster still wishes that Potter learn the ability of Occlumency, given the continuing danger of the link between his mind and the Dark Lord's. However... I am of the opinion that such lessons would be supremely unconstructive, for either of us. I do think though, that _you_ have enough intellect that I may be able to impress upon you the basics, and in turn, you may be able to instruct Potter. I feel he may be slightly more inclined to take advice, should it come from someone other than myself.' While talking, he sauntered lazily towards her across the room, in a manner slightly reminiscent of a predator stalking its prey.

Taking all this in, Hermione wondered if she would have been volunteered to take Occlumency lessons, even if she hadn't requested it herself. Something about the way he spoke had always intrigued her, and the unusual situation of their intimate surroundings gave her the push to enquire.

'Excuse me, sir, but why do you call him that? "The Dark Lord" I mean. Most of the other Order members call him "You-Know-Who", or "He Who Must Not Be Named".'

Snape smiled nastily at her for a second then swiftly drew his left arm back, fist in the air. For a moment, Hermione thought he might be about to strike her for asking an impertinent question. Then the wizard's long fingers of his right hand started to methodically undo the buttons of his tunic sleeve; they ran almost to his elbow, and when he had released the last one, he pulled back the cuff and freed the single button fastening the white shirt beneath. Briskly rolling back the heavy fabric he turned his arm over towards her and Hermione gasped slightly as he revealed a prominent, faintly undulating image of a gruesome-looking skull with a twisting snake emerging from the mouth: the Dark Mark.

'You're a Death Eater?'

'Formerly.'

She'd already been aware of that of course, having been told by Harry about Igor Karkaroff trying unsuccessfully to denounce Snape during the Durmstrang headmaster's trial at the Ministry, but now it was there in front of her, literally in black and white. Her curiosity overcame any fear she might have had.

'Can… can you actually _leave_ the Death Eaters then? I thought Lord Vol- Sorry!' She noticed the professor's cheek twitch almost imperceptibly in discomfort, '_You-Know-Who_... would kill anyone who renounced him?'

'He certainly would like to. I imagine if I were not placed quite so conveniently in a position to feed him information on the Headmaster's activities then my days would likely be numbered. And I fear it would be quite a small number(!)' Snape shot her another sneer, although she could tell it was merely to show his distaste for the situation that he found himself in.

'You've done some study on the art of Occlumency already?' It was mere formality, he'd heard her conversation with Dumbledore in the Hall perfectly well.

'Yes sir, just a bit. It's hard to practice on my own at home though. I spent Christmas with Ron's family, but none of them are Legilimens, so I wasn't able to get any of them to test me either.' Seeming unsurprised that none of the Weasley clan could have mastered something as intricate as Legilimency, Snape took hold of a chair and placed it in front of her.

'Sit.'

He strode around to the other side of the enormous desk and settled cat-like into Dumbledore's seat, sinking sinuously down into it while drawing his wand out from a tunic pocket and placing it down in front of him. He considered her at length before picking his wand up again and pointing it casually at her. She tried not to look nervous.

'Empty yourself of emotion. Focus on nothing, clear your mind. I will attempt to breach your defences using Legilimency - you will attempt to resist.'

Without any further preamble, he jabbed the wand in her direction and spoke clearly and firmly, "_Legilimens_!"

For a split second, Hermione felt nothing, and then her resistance failed. Trying to "focus on nothing" was like telling someone not to think about a pink elephant - suddenly that was the only thing that was impossible to do. Despite doing her best to maintain a mental image of as little as possible - the waiting room of her parents' dental clinic after closing time served very nicely as a blank canvas, or so she'd thought - it was apparently not enough, and she could feel Snape's presence in her thoughts, sifting through them methodically. She unavoidably thought of her parents, and knew he could see memories of her crying on her father's lap as a child; kissing her mother goodbye on Platform 9 ¾.

Then more. Unable to stop his progress, she recalled a kiss she'd shared with Viktor Krum at the Yule Ball. It was chaste, and nothing had ever developed between her and the Bulgarian Seeker so there was nothing more embarrassing for him to discover there, but the thought that Snape had seen that made her stomach twist for several reasons. With a start of alarm, she realised that he might also be able to see any memories of hers where she'd confessed her crush on the Potions master. Frantically trying to think of anything _other_ than chatting to Ginny Weasley in the library, she instead filled her mind with all sorts of fragments of tedious memories: old ones... recent ones... a play-by-play account of eating her breakfast in the Great Hall that morning...

With a low growl, she felt Snape break off his mental assault on her, and she almost sighed with relief.

'I'm quite sure the Dark Lord would be as equally bored with a synopsis of your mealtimes, Miss Granger, however in order for Occlumency to work, one must not simply attempt to baffle the intruder with superfluous memories. A skilled Legilimens will be able to sort through the dross; use even the tiniest detail to gain entry to your deeper thoughts. Your desires.'

Hermione thought Snape placed rather too much emphasis on this last word for her liking, but he seemed not to give any sign that he'd seen anything of interest in her mind. Although as a skilled Occlumens, she supposed he wouldn't. With a few more pointers on how to better approach keeping her mind clear of extraneous thoughts, they practiced for another half hour or so. The candlelight flickered weakly over the walls, and although the office was cool Hermione realised she had worked up quite a sweat. After Snape called a halt to the lesson, she peeled her jumper off and stood up.

'Thank you, sir. That's given me a lot to work with.'

Before she turned to leave, Snape stopped her.

'Miss Granger. Headmaster Dumbledore has expressed his desire that I continue to provide you with further instruction. Perhaps fortnightly? The dungeons would be more convenient for me.'

Snape thought he would just have to ask the Headmaster if he could borrow the Pensieve again. While Granger didn't seem to have been in any danger of turning the tables on him and exploring any of his own memories, he was a cautious man by nature. Even if Potter had already divulged to his friends the specifics of the professor's memory that he had snooped upon in the Pensieve the previous year, which was unlikely given how his threats seemed to have shaken the boy, there were still a few secrets that he would like to keep - particularly from Hermione Granger.

'Take this.' He opened a drawer in the desk and handed her a book.

'_Guide to Advanced Occlumency_? Thank you, sir.'

Snape sniffed in reply.

'Have a read through. No doubt it's more in-depth than anything else about the subject you've managed to get your hands on so far.'

'Yes, no, I've not read that one. Thank you,' she repeated.

Unaccustomed to being on the receiving end of so much student gratitude within such a short space of time, Snape sat stiffly in the chair until Hermione got the hint and started to leave once more. Just as she got to the door, he spoke to her again, fiddling absent-mindedly with one of the intricate silver instruments that lived on the Headmaster's desk.

'By the way, you still haven't brought me the Half-Blood Prince's book, Miss Granger.'

'Oh, yes, I'm working on it-' She could have clapped her hand over her mouth. Snape's eyebrows disappeared up almost into his hairline in reaction. She'd blown it - given the game away as to the real source of their extra instructions. Damn! She realised he'd taken advantage of her distraction following the lesson to catch her with her guard down. She truly hoped he _was_ on their side, because he was as resourceful and sly as any Slytherin she'd ever met. Seemingly unaware of the anguish he'd caused her, save for a tiny smirk, Snape stood as smoothly as he'd taken his seat earlier, remaining behind the desk.

'Quite. I told you to bring it to me, and I mean it. Use any means necessary - put Potter in the hospital wing for a day or two if you must - I'm sure you can think of something.'

'Why do you want it so badly, sir?' Hermione chanced her arm, pushing him for details, hoping he wouldn't shut her down and punish her for her audacity. 'Do you know who the Half-Blood Prince is? Is he dangerous?'

With both surprising and alarming alacrity, Snape skirted around Dumbledore's desk and crossed the room, barely drawing up in front of her in time to avoid a collision.

'_Exceptionally_, Miss Granger,' he hissed through his teeth. For a moment they stood regarding each other in silence, then something in Hermione's brain clicked: Snape knew what seemed to be some sort of private nickname that she'd been unable to find reference to anywhere else; a Potions genius; dubious Dark Arts tendencies...

'It's you!' she gasped. 'It's _your_ book! _You're_ the Half-Blood Prince!"

'Well done(!)' he drawled. 'Perhaps you'd like the Order of Merlin for finally putting two and two together? Mind you, you're still streets ahead of Potter. I hope he's not tried out any of the spells he might have found in there. It would be... unfortunate... if he were to experiment.'

Hermione paled at the implication. There were clearly darker things within that textbook than mere potion recipes and unkind jinxes.

'Not that I know of, sir,' she fudged, trying to think about anything at that moment except the memory of Harry and Ron hoisting each other into the air invisibly by their ankles one evening in the common room. 'I'll get the book for you though. As soon as possible.'

Snape reached out abruptly and seized her by the arms. She anticipated him grabbing her roughly, but although his grip was firm he didn't hurt her.

'See that you do, Miss Granger. See that you do...' He released his hold on her and let her leave finally.

Moments after she had left, Albus popped his head around the door.

'Evening, my boy. I trust your lesson with Miss Granger went well?' It was at times like this that Snape was glad he was an Occlumens, to hide the emotional reaction the Headmaster's frustrating enquiries evoked in him.

'Well enough,' he stated simply, before picking up his wand, stowing it away in his tunic and leaving the office himself.

* * *

Safely ensconced back in his dungeon quarters, Snape thought back on the events of the evening. He'd caught a moment of panic in Granger's mind as he'd viewed a memory of her kissing that numbskull Krum. She'd successfully deflected any further delving into her romantic adventures momentarily, and although he hadn't seen anything more incriminating, he had an excellent feeling he knew what she didn't want him to see.

Unfortunately for her, he had already witnessed it first-hand: her conversation with Miss Weasley in the library. It seemed a logical choice for the thought that she would most desperately want to hide from him. The girl needed a Pensieve(!) It was almost amusing. There was still a part of him that didn't quite believe it. Perhaps during a subsequent lesson with her he might try a little harder to pry into that particular line of thought, and see if he could get direct confirmation of her feelings for him?

Over a glass of Firewhisky, he mulled over his own thoughts in front of the roaring fire. Even if the girl _did_ feel some sort of affection for him - even if it was only physical attraction, however unlikely even that was - would she act on it? She'd indicated not - that it was just some passing phase; mere infatuation. Would _he_? Snape turned his thoughts to his own possible reactions. Could he trust in someone else that deeply? Did he even _want_ that sort of complication in his life?

With growing dread, he realised that it wasn't something he immediately dismissed out of hand. A part of him - however small - would not completely discount cultivating some sort of _personal_ relationship with Granger, should she ever decide to act on her feelings. He'd better redouble his efforts at making himself appear cold and unapproachable, to protect them both. It wouldn't do to allow such a weakness to develop...


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Sweeping through the corridors one sunny lunchtime, something in Snape's gut lurched upon catching a glimpse of the Weasley boy, limbs entangled with a girl on the window seat in an alcove, snogging furiously. Potter was loitering nearby, looking suitably nauseated. For a second he thought the girl must be Granger, but as he passed he could see her hair was slightly more honey-coloured, and recognised the curls as belonging to Miss Brown. He didn't know why he should feel relieved about this, or even care. Suddenly Hermione Granger _did_ appear around the corner, and seeing the red-head embracing their fellow housemate, remarked to Potter that she had the desire to vomit - a sentiment Severus was sure they all shared right at that moment. Without breaking stride, he quickened his pace, leaving the scene behind him and trying to shake the memory of his traitorous reaction to the case of mistaken identity.

'Ugh, they've got more flailing tentacles than the Giant Squid!' Hermione sneered at Harry, who shrugged noncommittally. He wasn't thrilled about Ron's burgeoning relationship with "Lav-Lav" but he could hardly complain. His own doomed attempts at romance so far were hardly his best friend's fault, although he couldn't quite work out whether Hermione's uncharacteristic venom towards the pair was motivated by jealousy, or if she simply didn't think very much of Lavender.

* * *

Seeing "Won-Won" snogging Lavender had indeed provoked a feeling of jealousy in Hermione, but not for the reason Harry might have suspected. She envied the pair's ability to put on such a flagrant display of affection in public. The object of her own affections would surely never deign to do something so vulgar - especially not with her - and even if he did, she doubted people would be quite so okay with it as they were with most other regular couples at the school.

As she arrived at the scene of that crime against public decency, by sheer unfortunate coincidence Professor Snape was also passing by. Hermione quickly darted her eyes away from him and stared out of the window, desperate to think of anything else right now. He hadn't mentioned another date for their Occlumency lessons yet and she was torn between hoping he'd forgotten all about it, and keenly awaiting another one. She knew that now she was aware of his identity as the Half-Blood Prince, she should be more intimidated by his somewhat Dark magical abilities - although she hadn't seen the aftermath of Harry using the Sectumsempra spell on Draco, he had described it vividly to her and Ron - but she also had a conflicting curiosity and respect for him that was growing daily.

* * *

Harry had been put in detention by Snape for some minor infraction or other, and Hermione had taken the opportunity one afternoon to sneak up to the boys' dormitory while everyone else was out watching the Quidditch. Clearly Snape wasn't much of a fan if he had arranged Harry's detention for the exact time that Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw were facing off. While obviously Harry wouldn't have been playing in the match himself, the Potions master almost certainly knew that he would have enjoyed going to spectate with the others.

Creeping through the door, she tutted at the piles of socks and robes and other detritus that littered the dormitory floor. Boys were so untidy! Unfortunately, Harry's trunk was in a similar state, and it took her a moment or two to sift through all the Zonko products, Liquorice Wands and other assorted bits of crap that had been stuffed in there at random.

Liberating _Advanced Potion-Making_ from the trunk carefully, to avoid further damaging the tattered, fragile binding, she double-checked the inside cover to make sure it was indeed the Half-Blood Prince's - Snape's - copy, before Shrinking it and tucking it into a pocket of her robes. Sneaking back out and into the girls' dorm, she concealed the book carefully in her own trunk, before making her way out to the Quidditch stands herself, to cheer on Ravenclaw with Luna and the others.

* * *

The next day, she had cautiously gotten Snape's attention during their DADA class when he'd come over to observe how she and Hannah Abbott were getting on with their hexes.

'Sir, I... I managed to do that project you set me. The Potions one?' She hoped he'd understand what she was talking about without elaborating further. Harry wasn't in earshot but Hannah was already giving her an odd look, although presumably she was simply perplexed by Hermione's peculiar desire to complete extra work for any teacher, least of all Snape.

'See me after class,' was her only acknowledgement.

Once everybody else had left the room, she again found herself approaching Snape at his desk. Without prompting, she dug around in her little beaded bag and extracted the Potions textbook, holding it out towards him. Snape snatched it briskly from her and placed it onto the desk beside him, without so much as a glance in her direction.

'You're welcome sir,' she said, surprised at her own cheek. Her barely-repressed obsession with him made her momentarily bold. Snape's eyes suddenly whipped up from the parchment in front of him and narrowed to slits, appraising her for a second. Hermione turned to leave, before she opened her mouth and let slip anything else that might get her into trouble. She thought the professor wouldn't want Dumbledore to know that he'd allowed his old and potentially dangerous spells to be found lying around the castle for all and sundry to discover, so she reasoned he might not punish her officially regarding the subject, and keep it between themselves. Snape pursed his lips at her, torn between irritation at her impudence, and relief that she had indeed accomplished the task he had set her.

'Thank you... Miss Granger,' he drawled. The words sounded alien coming from his mouth. The girl looked back at him, clearly equally as surprised at not being reprimanded. She gave him a weak smile, and something treacherous lurched up into his throat. A beat or two of silence, and a couple of steady breaths to centre himself before he spoke again. 'Regarding your next Occlumency lesson - you're free this Thursday? Seven o'clock again?'

'Oh! Yes, sir, thank you. And I've been reading that book you gave me, it's been really helpful, thank you. A shame you couldn't have added your own notes in that one as well though, sir, some parts were a bit dry. I thought some of the explanations could have been clearer.' She was now smiling broadly at him.

'Miss Granger, I would very much appreciate it if you would keep any knowledge about the other book and its author's identity to yourself. Suffice it to say, that I am not keen to have my name associated with such a thing, for various reasons.'

He was _asking_ her. Not telling her to keep her mouth shut "or else". She'd already betrayed Harry's confidence by stealing it from him in the first place, even if it was for his own good. Why cause friction by stirring things up, when keeping quiet would make life a lot easier?

'Of course, sir.' Not able to help herself, she added, 'Some of that really is very clever stuff though - have you ever had any of your work published? I have subscriptions to _Transfiguration Today_ and _Challenges in Charming_, I'm sure your inventions would be more than worthy of gracing their pages?'

Feeling undeservedly flattered at her appraisal of his skills - after all, what validation did he need from a Muggle-born girl who'd probably never created so much as a jinx in her life? - Snape sighed faintly.

'I might have had one or two entries in _The Practical Potioneer_ over the years,' he confessed, not knowing why he was sharing this information with her, but secretly a little satisfied deep down that someone was taking an interest finally. 'Nothing of much importance though. I gave up most of my _innovating_ after the First Wizarding War ended. As you can see, teaching the delinquents of Hogwarts fills most of my time.'

Not bothered in the slightest at being lumped in with the other "delinquents", Hermione seemed thrilled at having been able to get something approaching an interesting, civil conversation out of him.

'Well, I think you're probably wasted teaching, to be fair, sir. I imagine you'd probably have done very well in the Auror's office - I should think the Ministry of Magic would have jumped at the chance to get someone on board with your abilities? But I'm sure the Order of the Phoenix is equally grateful for your assistance!'

Before he could chastise her for being indiscreet about his allegiances, and slightly nonplussed at the preposterous notion that anyone would ever consider somebody like him suitable for Ministry employment, she had hefted her bag onto her shoulder and left the classroom. What a decidedly infuriating girl! He was rather beginning to like her, he thought, if he didn't kill her first...

* * *

Thursday, seven pm couldn't roll around fast enough, as far as Hermione was concerned. Professor Snape definitely seemed to be thawing, insofar as he'd started to engage her in basic conversation regarding his personal life. She wasn't so naïve as to think he actually _liked_ her, in either sense of the word, but she didn't get the impression that he was a particularly chatty man, even with his colleagues or students from his own house, so anything was a victory in her books.

Making her way down to the dungeons this time, she knocked on the door to the Potions classroom and heard him call from inside.

'Enter.'

Hermione pushed open the heavy oak door and peered into the gloom. Snape was sat at his desk at the front of the class as usual, although she could see off to one side, the stone basin of a Pensieve - presumably the same one that had been in Dumbledore's office during their previous lesson - the surface swirling with luminous, misty thoughts. As she approached, Snape stood and made his way to one of the student desks. Something about seeing him perch on one of the low wooden chairs made him look slightly absurd - she wondered if Snape had looked that out-of-place cramming his gangly body into a similar seat during his teenage years? He indicated to her to take a seat at a desk next to his.

'You performed... adequately... last time, Miss Granger. Let us see if you have made any improvement this week.'

Once again, he pointed his wand at her and cast the spell. '_Legilimens_.'

Hermione felt the sharpness of Snape's mind against hers, running along the boundaries of her defences, looking for a way in. She'd changed her mental image to something less personal this time - at least she hoped so. She called to mind a vision of a tranquil forest, dappled light falling through the tree canopy, not even the sound of birds to break the silence: The Forest of Dean, where she'd once been on holiday with her parents. She had enough memories to make it a believable, solid construct, and yet there were no strong emotions linked to that place to give him a way into her thoughts.

The pressure of his Legilimency started to burn, becoming a white-hot beam against her mind. Hermione redoubled her concentration on maintaining her inner calm, calling to mind the sound of a stream burbling through the woods. She was vaguely aware of sweat beading on her forehead, even in the cool dungeons. She heard Snape give a low grunt of effort; heard him shift in his seat, but didn't open her eyes. Just as she felt the edges of her defence collapsing, she felt her wand arm suddenly raise as if of its own accord. Unaware of the spell she was casting, a loud crash broke her concentration completely, and she finally took a peek at her surroundings.

Snape was not sat at the desk in front of her any more. Shooting up out of her seat, she saw the cause of the crashing noise. The professor was prone on the hard stone floor, chair knocked over in his fall. His arms were completely rigid and snapped tight to his sides; legs straight as a board. Only his dark eyes moved to flick towards hers as she stood.

'Oh! Gosh, sorry sir!' Hermione leapt instantly to his side, crouching down and placing a hand on his shoulder reassuringly. 'Hold on, I'll take the Body-Bind off you!'

Waving her wand agitatedly, Snape's body immediately relaxed. Rolling onto his side, Hermione had to scramble back to get out of his way as he rose to his feet. She found herself staring into his unnaturally black eyes, no clue as to his sentiments at being knocked unceremoniously to the floor by a student.

'Not bad. Certainly more controlled than Potter's reaction to having his mind penetrated, I'll give you that. For the unskilled, any methods may be used to resist the effects of Legilimency. For those who wish to go about it in a more... _subtle_ manner though, it is desirable to leave the performer with no idea that their attempt has been unsuccessful. The skilled Occlumens can deny a wizard access to their thoughts without the aggressor even knowing their efforts are rebuffed. They may alter memories, conceal them entirely, or create new ones that are indistinguishable from the real thing. It is rather fortunate that it is an obscure branch of magic, lest we all find ourselves living in a world where the slightest detail cannot be trusted.' _Some of us _do_ live in a world like that_, he rued to himself.

He knew his life as a spy was invaluable to the war effort, but he was under no illusions that if he could give it all up tomorrow, and live a normal, simple life, that he would choose it without hesitation.

Hermione had been braced for a tirade at being so unceremoniously incapacitated by her curse, and was astonished that he didn't seem angered. Then again, perhaps he was hiding it, although from her experience that seemed to be the one emotion Snape _didn't_ conceal.

* * *

Severus had managed to swallow down his instinctive reaction to explode with vitriol against his undignified defeat. After all, the whole point of these lessons was to teach the girl to defend herself against Legilimency, and she at least seemed to take on his instructions and advice. While Granger was perhaps not quite as naturally skilled at defensive magic as Potter, he grudgingly admitted, the way she studiously applied herself allowed her to overcome any weakness.

Lying on his back on the cold floor of the classroom, he hadn't even noticed the unyielding stone against his spine. He had seen her eyes snap open and a small "o" of surprise and shock form on her lips as the girl instantly dashed to his side and placed her hand on his arm, crouching by his side apologetically. Her touch engendered a similar reaction as it had in the Potions classroom the day he'd confronted her about crushing the Sopophorous beans - Snape felt like he'd been struck with a Stinging Jinx, the sensation shooting through his veins and setting every nerve alight with anticipation. Probably just as well his entire body was immobile, he thought darkly, so that he didn't react in any way that betrayed what he was feeling.

Another couple of practice runs and Granger was already making vast improvement. Falling to his knees after being struck by her defensive Jelly-Legs Jinx, he nearly shoved her hand away as she offered it to him to help him to his feet. Biting back a sharp retort that from experience he knew he'd regret later, he swallowed his pride, took her arm and rose unsteadily. Once fully upright again, he made to withdraw his arm from her grasp. She had her fingers wrapped firmly around his forearm, and he realised uncomfortably that they hovered exactly over the spot where his Dark Mark lurked beneath. Before he could think of something clever to say to get her to release him, she spoke.

'I know why you'd join, you know. The Death Eaters? I've been thinking about it a lot - I know it's probably hard to think why a Muggle-born would see the attraction of a group like that, but I can. Lots of people didn't know the lengths You-Know-Who would go to before he rose to power the first time around, they were all taken in. There's parallels in the Muggle world with that sort of thing as well - good people who end up on the side of evil because they're just following orders? Because they don't see the whole picture until it's too late.' She smiled at him in a way that simultaneously filled him with self-loathing and elation. 'I know you've faced hostility from people on both sides of the war - Karkaroff tried to turn you in, and Sirius thought you were a traitor. But I just wanted to say, we're all very grateful for the work you do, and I realise we can never know what the real cost is for you, but thank you. Just... thank you.'

Suddenly overcome with shyness, Hermione let go of his arm, and took a step back, definitely expecting an explosive reaction to her overstepping of the boundaries. He was a professor, an adult, a member of the Order, and a powerful wizard to boot. And she'd gone mawkishly professing her gratitude as if he'd value her opinion one iota!

Snape blinked slowly, as if nobody had ever said such a thing to him before - as if he were deciphering a foreign language. Then, just as he looked like he was about to say something in reply, his mouth snapped shut and the black eyes regained their usual impassivity.

'Has someone given you a Babbling Beverage, Miss Granger?' He took a step back, mirroring her own retreat, and cocked his head slightly, folding his arms across his chest.

'I... no sir, I...' Hermione faltered. 'I'm sorry, I'm tired. I think I should return to Gryffindor Tower. Thank you sir, good night!'

Yet again, before he could add anything further, she had turned and fled from the room; he could hear her steps echoing up the dungeon corridor as she went. "Make friends with her," the Headmaster had said! It was proving to be easier said than done for the surly Slytherin. No sooner than he opened up a little, he shut down again like a secure vault in Gringotts, unwilling to let anyone in.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Potter didn't seem to suspect that his friend was behind the loss of his Potions textbook, at least from what Snape saw of them together. The boy remained friendly towards her, while the professor had the distinct feeling that things between Potter and Weasley had hit something of a rocky patch. Perhaps that was merely due to the older boy's continued showboating romance with Miss Brown? He couldn't blame Potter if he were simply fed up with watching the pair locking lips every five minutes.

Still, it wouldn't hurt for him to be misled in looking for a culprit. Weasley no doubt harboured some jealousy towards him for his _celebrity_ status in the wizarding world - it wouldn't be a huge stretch of the imagination to think that Ronald had taken the book in order to knock some of Potter's shine off in class; to take him down a peg or two, to the level of the other mere mortals around him.

* * *

Harry had been beside himself when he had discovered that _Advanced Potion-Making_ was missing from his trunk. He'd asked around the dormitory and nobody confessed to having taken it, or having seen anyone else who might have done. It was clearly a Gryffindor, given that no one else could have gotten into their common room. He didn't want to suspect his two best friends, but his friendship with Ron had taken something of a downturn of late, although Harry thought that what with all the snogging he was doing recently, getting ahead in Potions would be quite low down Ron's list of priorities.

Hermione had been rather disapproving of him using the textbook in the past, although Harry was certain she considered herself above such subterfuge, even to prevent academic fraud. Perhaps one morning the book would reappear back in his trunk and he would wake up with "CHEAT" written across his forehead in boils the next time he brewed a potion? She had already demonstrated an inclination to enchant reading material when she felt betrayed - perhaps she had been more put out by Harry knocking her off the top spot in Slughorn's classes than he'd realised? Or maybe she was just borrowing it for a bit of light bedtime reading, and would return it once she'd had a flick through it?

He tried to fight the feeling of paranoia that was creeping over him. He was still a tiny bit jealous of Hermione winning the Felix Felicis in Snape's lesson. She probably wouldn't even use it in something as boring as exams - while not exactly "cheating" per se, he had a feeling it wouldn't sit well with her rigid morals - and privately thought it was a bit of a waste of good potion. Unbeknown to her, Harry had used the class's fascination with the Amortentia to sneak out a tiny vial of another of the potions used in the demonstration: Veritaserum.

He hadn't really known what he would use it for, although a couple of drops onto a Liquorice Snap might finally provide him with a few concrete answers from Dumbledore on what exactly was going on in the fight against Voldemort, and what the Headmaster knew about Harry's role to play. According to Snape, who had first shown him the truth serum when threatening him about stealing from the Potion master's stores, it was extremely powerful. Although he didn't have much, he might be able to spare a little, to try and eliminate his friends from suspicion, and try to repair their relationship that had weathered a little as they'd hit their teenage years.

* * *

After dinner one evening, the three of them were sat together in the common room. Harry and Ron were playing a rather lacklustre game of wizard chess, while Hermione interjected every now and then with "helpful" advice.

'No! Castle to E-5, Harry. Keep your knight there - he's going to take it if you move now!'

Sure enough, Ron steadily won a few more of his opponent's pieces, before calling checkmate. Harry excused himself for a second, returning with opened bottles of Butterbeer for the three of them. He handed them to Ron and Hermione, who accepted gratefully. Hermione gave him a warm smile. Harry was such a fundamentally _nice_ person. After all he'd been through, and continued to go through, year after year, he stuck by his friends no matter what.

After a few minutes, while Ron and Harry were discussing the Chudley Cannons' latest match against the Wimbourne Wasps, the dark-haired boy casually slipped in a question.

'Oh, I've got some Potions homework I need to do for next week. Has anyone seen my textbook?' Hermione knew she was supposed to be denying all knowledge of what had happened to the Half-Blood Prince's book, but an unseen force compelled her to respond, and before she knew what she was saying, she'd answered him.

'Yes.' Harry and Ron both craned their heads around to look at her.

'Did you borrow it, Hermione?' Harry asked, conversationally, black eyebrows raised enquiringly.

'Yes. I took it.'

'Where is it?' His voice now had a slightly more urgent tinge to it.

'I..." she tried to resist. _Veritaserum_! He'd somehow slipped Veritaserum into her drink! "I... I gave it to the professor.'

'Slughorn?! Thanks a lot, Hermione(!) If I'd known you were that bothered about me using it, I'd have gotten myself a new copy. You needn't have handed it in though, you could have lied to him if he thought I was getting extra help from somewhere!'

'No... not Slughorn... I couldn't help it. He could tell if I lied to him. Besides, I... I can't lie to him... I... I love him...'

Harry frowned. Clearly, this conversation was not going the way he'd imagined.

'_Love _him?! Who are you talking about...?'

'Severus Snape, of course!'

Ron spat out a mouthful of Butterbeer. Harry looked incredulous and revolted, all at once.

'_Snape_?! God, has Romilda Vane been handing out Chocolate Cauldrons again?' The boys groaned at the memory of the Love Potion-laced sweets that Ron had accidentally consumed on his birthday.

'Why would Romilda Vane want people to fall in love with Snape though?'

Harry shrugged. 'Maybe it's Snape doing it? Maybe he somehow slipped her a dose from the cauldron when he took Slughorn's classes that time!'

'Urgh, people want to fall in love with that greasy git about as much as he wants someone to fall in love with him, I reckon.'

'It's no joke - I'm in love with him!' Hermione's voice rose a notch. Harry cast a wary eye around the common room - luckily it was quiet and no one else seemed to have overheard them so far. As much as he'd wanted to find out the truth, whatever was going on with Hermione, he didn't want to embarrass her in front of their entire house.

'Alright - you're in love with him! Have you ever actually spoken to him? Outside of classes?' So unexpected was this turn of events, that Harry had completely forgotten that he should have been angry at her for stealing from him.

Ron was looking at her like he was about to be sick. Hermione had the indignant, fleeting thought that it was a bit rich, coming from the boy who'd spent most of the term with his tongue down Lavender Brown's throat, but she suddenly felt her head clear and her inhibitions returning. Harry had obviously given her a very tiny dose of the truth serum, and it was wearing off. Grabbing her cardigan off the back of the chair, she stood up and scurried across the room to the portrait hole, and out of the tower.

Harry and Ron sat there for a moment.

'Blimey. What d'you suppose all that was about?'

'Girls,' Harry shot Ron a look of equal confusion. 'Who knows? Bet I'm going to get a bloody detention off Snape though, for using that book. I might go and confess to Slughorn first - that way I'll get off with a lighter punishment. Snape can't bollock me for it again!'

'Another game?' Ron nodded towards the chessboard, where the pieces were all standing around huffing impatiently.

'Go on then. Best of five?'

* * *

**A/N: So a scene in this chapter was actually the first bit of the story I jotted down as an idea - I liked the idea of twisting the Love Potion reaction around from Ron to the heart-led Hermione.  
**

**Things might be about to hot up a little in the next chapter. I couldn't keep our favourite couple apart any longer ;)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Hermione had been rather pleased with the Undetectable Extension Charm she had put on her bag - it enabled her to carry around all sorts of things day in, day out. Although the boys couldn't get into the girls' dormitory, these days she wasn't taking any chances. So nestled comfortably in the bottom of the little beaded bag was her bottle of Liquid Luck, still unopened, and another vial, which she had also acquired during the same Potions class. With an appearance like water, she was now uncomfortably familiar with its effects on the drinker.

She'd felt bad about stealing, especially from Professor Snape, but Hermione had reasoned that it might well come in handy for them in the fight against Voldemort, and clearly the Potions master had more than enough to go around. He wouldn't miss one tiny vial-full of Veritaserum...

Now, mindlessly walking the halls of the castle, her cheeks still burning with humiliation at her unintended confession to the boys, she started to cry softly to herself. Perhaps she'd go and sit in Myrtle's bathroom for a bit? She might get a bit of sympathy from the moping ghost.

Before she'd had a chance to take the staircase to the second floor however, a tall, dark figure swept soundlessly around the corner in front of her. Drawing himself up just in time to avoid a collision, Professor Snape stared down his nose at her. About to say something acerbic no doubt, he noticed her tears and frowned.

'_Miss_ _Granger_?' he asked, in a tone that conveyed a desire for her to explain herself.

Clumsily wiping away a tear from the corner of her eye, she drew in a sharp breath, and steadfastly refused to meet his gaze. She focused instead on the scrap of his cravat that was just visible, poking out from the top of his shirt collar. Seeing he wasn't going to get an explanation from her in the corridor, and unable or unwilling to intimidate her into opening up, he tucked a rogue strand of hair behind his ear, and spoke to her softly.

'Come.' Snape stretched out a hand, his fingers just barely poking out the end of a long sleeve, and took hold of her wrist. Sniffing away her distress, Hermione meekly followed.

Once in the dungeons, he released his grip on her, and led her down a passage she'd never been down before, stopping in front of a non-descript doorway. Muttering something she didn't quite catch under his breath, he pushed the door open and beckoned her in. Ducking under his arm, she found herself in what she presumed was his private living quarters. It was every bit as depressing as his office in the dungeons, although there were several large bookcases lining the walls which were overflowing with ancient-looking, leather-bound volumes.

Repressing the urge to go over and start scanning through the titles, Hermione stood in the middle of the room. Snape swept past her and went to sit behind a desk, not dissimilar to the one he had in his Potions office. Gesturing to an old and shabby wingback chair nearby, he invited her to sit.

'So...' She looked miserably at the floor in front of her. 'What happened that drove you to wander the halls this evening in such a state of upset? Are you struggling with the NEWT-year workload? Should I postpone our extracurricular lessons if you're not coping?'

Hermione's eyes suddenly shot up to meet Snape's. Then, just as suddenly, she dissolved into a flood of noisy tears. Clearly uncomfortable with this seemingly unwarranted new development, Snape stood, and turned towards a door at the back of the room.

'Perhaps I shall bring us a cup of tea. And maybe a Calming Draught.'

* * *

After a few minutes, he reappeared with two mugs of strong, dark tea. He placed one down on a side table next to the wingback, before retreating with his own to the desk. Waving his wand, a sugar bowl appeared next to her mug. Fixing her with one of his trademark piercing stares, he waited in silence for her to explain. Taking a few sips, Hermione blew on the top of the cup to cool the drink, and give her a moment to gather her thoughts. This was simultaneously the place she most, and _least_ wanted to be right now - alone, with Professor Snape.

'I'm sorry sir,' she hiccoughed her way through the subsiding tears. 'Harry knows. About the book. He doesn't know you're the Half-Blood Prince, but he knows I gave it to you. I didn't tell him it was because you'd asked for it though! He just thinks I turned it in because I was fed up with him cheating...'

Snape's eyes narrowed faintly. Twirling his index finger lazily in a circle around the top of the mug, his teaspoon magically stirred in the lump of sugar he'd just added.

'I see,' he said after a moment. 'No matter. Potter is _unlikely_ to ask me for it back, given our relationship. I daresay he can afford to get another copy sent up by owl - I expect Flourish & Blotts would be only too happy to cater to such a famous customer(!) I wouldn't worry yourself.' Seeing that her reaction seemed just a little too extreme for such a minor issue, he cleared his throat. 'Ahem. I won't insult your abilities by attempting to use Legilimency on you, Miss Granger, but I can hardly help but feel there might be something... _more_... which has you in this state of upset?'

As Hermione broke down again in hysterical tears, she heard Snape stand up again and sigh gently.

'I shall fetch that Calming Draught. Stay there.'

When he returned momentarily, Hermione was shifting in her chair, crossing her legs at the knees. The Draught would soon ease her worries, he thought. Approaching her, he cocked his head to the side slightly, asking permission. She gave a minute nod, and he poured a dram of the vibrant blue potion into her drink. Returning to his desk, he didn't take a seat but instead perched upon the edge of the table, leaning back against it, arms folded across his chest, watching as she took a hesitant sip. He reached down and picked up his own tea, cradling the mug elegantly in his fingers.

'Better?' He raised the drink to his thin lips, and took a long gulp. Normally he'd have preferred more sugar, but he didn't want it getting around that Professor Snape had a sweet tooth.

'Much!' The girl had drained half of her mug now, and placed it down on the table beside her. 'Thank you, sir. Now all I need to do is Obliviate Ron and Harry when I get back to Gryffindor Tower...'

Snape frowned. It wasn't like her to joke about using inappropriate charms on her classmates.

'And what exactly do you need them to forget, Miss Granger?'

'I... I told them I had a crush on someone...'

Snape's eyebrows shot up, but he said nothing. If what he'd heard her saying to Miss Weasley in the library that time, it was _he_ that was the object of her crush. But then again, the majority of teenage fancies came and went in the blink of a Sphinx's eye - it would be presumptuous of him to assume that what she thought she felt for him was enduring in any way.

'I hardly think that is cause for alarm, Miss Granger,' he started, 'It is my understanding that people your age spend a great deal of time discussing the young witches and wizards that they have romantic feelings for. Why, Mr Weasley certainly seems to make no bones about the fact he's dating Miss Brown, as I understand?'

Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

'Yes, well... let's just say that Ron's girlfriend is a little more _socially acceptable_ than the person I like...' she trailed off.

Snape's heart sank like a stone. None of Miss Granger's previous paramours were anything other than popular and appropriate. But why in Merlin's name was she telling him this?! Surely she knew there was no way he would ever admit, or reciprocate her feelings in any meaningful way, even if he did feel something for the girl - he simply _couldn't_.

Granger bit her lip in a way that both terrified and excited him, before standing up slowly from the chair. She took two steps towards him before pausing.

'You see, sir... the thing is... The person that I have feelings for...' He blinked stupidly at her, 'is you.'

A second or two passed like an age, before he spoke, very calm and quiet.

'I see. Well, I must say, Miss Granger, I'm not quite sure what you intend to gain from telling me such a thing...?' He didn't want to make her feel bad, but he could do nothing but turn it back onto her. Instead of breaking down in tears again however, she seemed to steel herself.

'I'm sure I already know the answer,' she said softly, 'but I can't go on any longer without asking. Do you... Could you... ever... like _me_?' Snape's brow furrowed, but then he found himself unable to remain silent.

'Yes.'

'I... what?! You _like_ me, sir?'

'Yes, Miss Granger. Of late, I find myself developing a certain attraction to you.'

Something wasn't right! His gaze dropped instantly to the mug of tea in his hands - he'd only been out of the room for a moment, but...? _Veritaserum_! She'd put fucking _Veritaserum_ in his tea! Had he been expecting it, he'd have employed defences; used Occlumency to resist, but her uncharacteristic subterfuge had taken him by surprise. Snape was momentarily paralysed by the torrent of thoughts that raced through his mind in an instant: What would Dumbledore say? What would _she_ do? It was all well and good admiring someone from afar, but when things suddenly became real, would Granger realise she didn't really want him after all? Could he deny the potion had worked? Pretend his confession was said in jest?

Before he'd got much further than that however, he was jolted from his thoughts by a sudden movement. Granger had closed the gap between them and was stood right in front of him. Stepping slightly around his reclining legs so that his feet were between hers, she leaned in and pressed a soft, warm kiss to his lips.

Unlike the other times they'd touched previously, the resulting electric sensation he experienced wasn't disconcerting. Maybe it was the fact that he'd had it confirmed that she did indeed have feelings for him? Their mutual admission now left them both with as much to lose as one another. For a moment he remained motionless, his hands planted back on the edge of the desk, bracing himself, but neither engaging nor disengaging. Then Granger brought one of her hands up to caress his cheek, sliding her fingertips under the curtain of lank hair that hung over his face. He could resist no longer and brought his own hands up to hold her waist, opening his mouth slightly and deepening the kiss. She moaned ever so quietly as he did so, and his stomach lurched with anticipation. The girl tasted like sweet tea and the tang of potion.

Hermione knew it was now or never. She'd gotten Snape to admit his own feelings for her, although she had no idea how deep they ran. Even if it was merely a physical attraction though, she would take it. As she'd kissed him, for a horrible second she thought he might push her away, might react in horror and anger. Instead, his lips parted and she realised he was kissing her back. Bringing her other hand up, she cupped his thin face, holding him to her. She could hear him breathing hard through his nose; could feel his exhalations against her skin. Every nerve was on fire, she wanted to get impossibly close to him. Tentatively, she pressed her body flush up against his. Snape's low voice rumbled, she could feel the vibrations through her own chest.

'Miss Granger, I...' he spoke between kisses. 'I'm not sure this is a good idea...'

He didn't stop though, didn't draw away. Hermione felt one of his hands move to her back, sending shivers of delight across her skin.

'Shhh...' she broke off their kiss for a second, and placed a finger against his lips. 'Why not? We might not get out of this war alive anyway - why not live a little dangerously? I won't tell anyone...'

He knew she wouldn't. She seemed like a girl with a strong morality, if that was the right word to use for such a situation. Completely the opposite of him, he rued - when he was her age, he would have done anything to get ahead in the world. But he knew she wouldn't abuse his trust. He was beyond fed up by now of living a weary life; following too many of other people's rules, just to stay alive. Her body pressed up against his was doing horrible things to his willpower. He didn't know if it was the Veritaserum lowering his inhibitions, but he suddenly burned with a desire to indulge her. Snape slid backwards onto the desk top, tapping his hand on the back of one of her thighs to indicate she should climb up. Scrambling up to kneel astride his lap, she rubbed herself provocatively up against his groin.

'Merlin's beard!' He couldn't think of anything more intellectual right now. He felt her smile against his lips as she embraced him passionately again. Hermione reached up to his collar and started to undo the long row of buttons that fastened the front of his coat. Sliding his fingers into her hair, Snape ran them through the wayward curls. She reached his waist in short order, and the jacket fell open. Her hands slipped under the heavy black fabric and started to caress his chest. Suddenly, Snape leaned forward, dislodging her from his lap. Confused, Hermione scrambled down off the desk awkwardly, but he immediately grabbed hold of her and spun, this time pushing her back against the desk. He placed his hands either side of her on the desktop, leaning forward to reconnect with her again as she reclined, trying desperately not to think of all the times he'd had her essays on there. And now here he was, seducing her. Or was she seducing him?

Those sure hands of hers made quick work of his shirt buttons as well, and untied the cravat from around his neck, pulling it free and dropping it onto the floor. The cold dungeon air chilled his bare chest, but he paid it no heed. Repaying the favour, he reached up and fumbled with her cardigan buttons. Peeling it down her arms, he discarded it in the pile with his cravat. For another minute to two they went no further, just stood there kissing desperately, before they both needed to take a breath.

As they parted, Hermione grabbed the edges of her t-shirt, lifting it up and over her head in one smooth motion. Snape bent his head down to press more kisses to her bare skin. He wasn't sure if the goose bumps were due to the temperature in the room, or his own attentions. Working his way down her jaw, nuzzling the base of her ear and travelling down her neck, he could feel her squirm beneath him. Bringing his hands up to place on her shoulders, he hesitantly slid them down her chest to cup her breasts. Between her moans, he barely took in her underwear. Although not an expert by any means, her bra didn't appear to be anything particularly special. She probably hadn't specifically planned to come here and seduce him tonight then? Just a spur of the moment impulse - and one he was starting to feel glad she'd listened to.

Gently massaging her breasts, Snape couldn't help grind up against her on the edge of the desk, and he uttered a low moan of his own. Hermione's hands were roaming across his chest, swirling around his nipples and down over his torso. She skimmed lightly over the front of his trousers, making him see stars. His mouth travelled back up to nibble on her ear, and she tilted her head to one side to allow him better access.

Carried away with their explorations, Hermione withdrew her hands from Snape's body for a second. He didn't appear to notice at first, so invested was he in his attentions to her earlobe. At the sound of a zip however, his dark gaze turned downwards, and he saw she had undone her jeans and was pushing ineffectually at the waistband to try and remove them. He gently pushed her back down onto the desk and tugged firmly at the trouser legs, pulling them down and peeling them off. She'd already slipped her shoes off to make it easier for him. When she was left clad in just her underwear, she sat up again and took him in another desperate kiss. Experimentally, Snape ran his hand over the front of her knickers, and smirked as she gasped into his mouth. Pleased with her reaction he rubbed her again, this time with a bit more pressure.

'Please...' she moaned at him. 'Please, oh God...'

Now abandoning all caution, Snape shucked off his shirt and coat. Pushing her underwear to one side, he touched her with a sinewy finger, sliding gently into the wetness he found beneath. She'd jerked forwards, trying desperately to prolong the pleasure. Instead, he'd pulled his hand away and crouched down. Grasping the edges of her knickers in his hands, he'd pulled them down and off over her legs where they joined the mismatched pile of clothing that was already on the floor beside them. He heard her intake of breath as she felt his long hair brush against her thighs. Pausing a second for her to stop him if she wanted, he instead felt her hand rest lightly on top of his head, a gentle, affectionate sign of acceptance and permission.

Snape slid his arms underneath behind her knees and used the crook of his elbows to scoot her forwards towards the edge of the desk. Resting his hands on top of her thighs to steady himself and keep her legs open, he leaned forwards. Just as she was anticipating him tasting her, he stopped. She could feel his breath against her skin.

'You're of age, Miss Granger? Hermione...?'

Trust him to get this far and then put the brakes on at the last moment! Biting back frustration and nerves, she answered through heavy breaths. 'Was seventeen... in... September- ohhh...!'

As soon as she'd replied affirmatively, he'd thrust his tongue between her folds and taken a long stroke upwards to flick against her clit. It was unlike anything she'd ever experienced before. Her previous fumblings with a couple of other boys had never gotten very far, and _certainly_ hadn't included anything like this! Briefly she worried about when he would inevitably expect her to reciprocate, but then Snape sucked at her hard and thrust his tongue into her pussy which made her cry out. He kept up this assault on her senses for what seemed like an age, before slowly climbing back up off his knees and pulling her up off where she'd been reclining on the desk. A long finger reached down between them to continue teasing her, and she kissed him fervently. His other hand was working on undoing his own trousers now, and with a slightly feral growl he roughly pulled them down where they pooled at his feet. Embracing her close, he thrust up against her, only his underwear separating them. They both gasped at the sensation.

'Please... I want you...'

Snape almost didn't know how to react to that. Hatred, he could deal with. Disgust, people looked at him like that every day. But _desire_...

In the end, he didn't have to react, she did it for him. Reaching into his pants, Hermione carefully pulled out his cock, which was now rock-hard and more than ready for anything she wanted to do to him. She stroked it up and down a few times, watching him react to the feeling. With deliberation, she placed the tip up against her entrance, and looked deep into his eyes.

'Fuck me, Severus.'

Not needing any more encouragement, Snape gave one long, slow push into her. Once he was all the way in he paused for a moment, taken aback by the feeling of how tight and wet she was for him. This was not going to be anything other than quick, he knew. Returning her intense gaze, he checked to see if she was okay.

'Are you...?'

'Fine. You feel... amazing. Please...'

Placing one hand on her lower back, and the other on the desk for stability, he started to thrust hesitantly into her.

Hermione was taken aback at how perfect he felt inside her. He wasn't big enough to be uncomfortable, but filled her completely. As he started to move, she could feel his balls pressing up against her, heightening the sensation. After a minute or two, she shifted to recline all the way back on the desk again. Snape began to speed up a little - she thought he might be getting close already, which she realised she found an extremely erotic thought; how he was enjoying her body. Lying down, the angle he entered her at changed slightly, and she felt her own arousal building at the new sensation. Now no longer having to hold her, he slipped a hand in between them again and started to tease her slowly. Reaching up to wrap a hand around his neck, she pulled him down and kissed him fervently. Spurred on, both Snape's hand and cock increased in speed, making her tense up. With a sudden rush that built and surged through her body, Hermione came hard. Hearing her cries, Snape smirked at her wantonly.

'Merlin's balls, you're going to make me come in a second too...'

Bracing himself with both hands, he gave one, two, three long thrusts, before letting out a wordless cry of ecstasy as he drove all the way into her one final time. His long hair clung to his sweaty face, but looking up at him Hermione thought he'd never looked sexier. Feeling like she'd cast the Jelly-Legs Jinx on him again, Snape collapsed forward on top of her, no longer able to support himself.

Hermione stroked his head affectionately, revelling in their shared bliss. She peeled a couple of straggly strands of hair away from his forehead.

'That was... nice.' She gave him a shy smile.

'Unghhh! Sweet Merlin... That was... quite something... I suppose you learned that from a book?!'

He was mocking her, but not unkindly. Carefully withdrawing from her, he rooted around on the floor for his wand amongst the clothing, and cleaned them both up.

'Tergeo.' He bent again before handing Hermione her knickers. 'It's cold in the dungeons. You don't want to catch a chill.'

'I'll catch a chill down here with you any day...' She just managed to avoid adding "sir" - no point making things any more awkward than they undoubtedly already were. Still, she had a little over one more year at Hogwarts to go, so perhaps there might be something in the future for them? Even if it was just sex, if it was always as good as tonight, she'd have no complaints.

* * *

To Harry Potter's great surprise, Professor Snape never mentioned his illicit use of the Half-Blood Prince's textbook. Not that he was disappointed to escape detention, but still...

* * *

**A/N: So at the moment, this is the final complete chapter I have for this story, HOWEVER... I do have a draft of one more, which has no lemons I'm afraid, but is a slightly alternate take on the Battle of the Astronomy Tower, and could maybe lead to an interesting situation going forward to the Final Battle with Voldemort... As yet I'm undecided on whether to continue that far though. I'm really supposed to be working on my other fic which is stalled at 80k words ;)**


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